


and he was a good king, fair and strong

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, I can't tag things, flagrant lies parading as norse """fairy tales""", sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three times he broke her heart...</p>
            </blockquote>





	and he was a good king, fair and strong

He is all sharp edges and artless grace, and she falls for it – for him – as easily as any trick.

(This is how such stories must always start: with a fall. It is also how such stories are wont to end, but _she_ doesn’t know that yet. She is of an age where stories don’t have endings yet.)

So there it is: gradually, and then all at once, Darcy Lewis finds herself jumping off the deep end and drowning in the depths of his unreadable green eyes. She gives him all her firsts – or rather, he takes... Loki Odinson has always been a greedy little boy, his fingers closer to claws, scratching and tearing and stealing them from her – all of them but one. Her first heartbreak, she denies him. It is a matter of principle; she reserves that title for a failed romance in the fifth grade. It had only lasted the length of recess, but at the time, she is sure she felt crushed. It is a memory she must cling to, a reminder that Loki couldn’t have everything of hers.

Later, she will say that there is a certain coldness to this boy, but right now, she is still young, and young girls can be just as foolish as young boys with razorblade smiles and impenetrable defences. This is her excuse, at least, the first time he breaks her heart. She almost convinces herself that it is exactly what she had expected, or what she _ought_ to have expected – Darcy doesn’t always do what she ought – but it is only a small crack, after all, one that is easily mended.

_“Once upon a time, under the shade of Yggdrasil, a young prince met and fell in love with a beautiful woman.” Loki and Thor look up from their game of catch, settling onto the floor as their mother flips the pages of a dusty book. “This prince was not as he appeared, however. He had been cursed by the Norns, and whoever fell in love with him was destined to die.” Loki’s face is transfixed as he hangs onto his mother’s every word. “He was weak – for love makes people so – and he tempted fate: he let himself forget the curse, and gradually, the woman, Signe, did fall for him. But the night before their wedding, the king (for he was a king now, a good king, fair and strong – for love makes people so) realized that in marrying her, he would be cursing the woman he cared about more than anything in all the nine realms.”_

Darcy is older, the second time. No longer Loki Odinson, he goes by Loki Laufeyson. His name may have changed, but his coldness remains, and it is only a matter of time before he pushes her and Darcy splinters like glass. There is no one to pick up the pieces this time, so she collects the fragments herself.

(She knows now that other people can’t fix a heart for you. She has learned some things, you see, in the past year, though she still has yet to outgrow her love for a boy – man, really – who cannot love her back.)

She takes the remains of her heart and puts them in a jar, placing them high up on a dusty shelf and promptly forgetting about them. She builds herself a new, less breakable heart instead.

(This is simply foolishness, but such things are not easy to outgrow, and Darcy Lewis was always a stubborn child.)

_“So the king kissed his Lady Signe one last time, and he told her to leave. He ignored her pleas, and finally, she left him, her heart broken and her eyes weeping. The king locked himself into his throne room for twenty days and twenty nights. Signe wandered beneath the World Tree, and she prayed.” Thor looks distraught, though he tries to conceal it by tapping his foot impatiently. Loki is still, his face impassive. Frigga reads on: “Years later, the king heard that his Signe was engaged. Many moons passed, and he received news that she was finally married. And the king retreated to his throne room once more, but he did not bar the doors. And he was a good king, fair and strong. For love makes people so.” “Why did he let her go?” Loki interrupts. “Why didn’t they work together to break the curse?” “Not all curses can be broken, little one. He knew that marrying her would be selfishness. He had to love her more than he loved himself.” Loki doesn’t look satisfied with this answer, but then his brother grabs the ball in his hands, and the two set off running, chasing after each other. Frigga shuts the book, sighing as she watches her two boys. Thor’s fate has always been simple. A straight path. But whenever she grasps for Loki’s future, she sees only a fog: a thousand ever-shifting possibilities, filled with more dark shadows than she would have wished._

The third time he breaks her heart, Darcy’s chest is hollow, and she barely registers anything beyond the crackling voice on the other end of the phone. She only realizes that it’s happened later, when she happens upon her heart by accident. A jar lies shattered on the floor in front of a shelf she forgot about long ago, sparkling dust spilling over the shards. Briny tears spill over her eyes, and she tells herself that it’s the powder getting in her eyes. She grabs a broom and sweeps up the mess on the floor. When she takes out the trash the next morning, glitter shimmers among the beer bottles and empty takeout cartons. If she notices it pulsing red, she doesn’t say anything.

The third time, he doesn’t mean to break her heart.

(He never did. He cared too much, not too little. A foolish boy who related too well to a prince with a curse.)

It rains all week, and the people of Puente Antiguo grow accustomed to flashes of lightning, the constant rumble of thunder. The rain drowns out all Darcy’s sobs and washes away her tears as in the streets, the sound of people celebrating mingles with the fizzle of waterlogged fireworks, sparking and hissing.

Thor tells the story in hushed tones, the sudden killing stab and the fall, the descent to the ground. An honourable death. Darcy nods numbly, but she knows that honour is no consolation.

The third time is the last time, and there is no mending it.

He is _gone_.

(Sitting on a hollow golden throne, he tells himself that he will be a good king, fair and strong. But the Allfather still has his moments of weakness, and for twenty days and twenty nights, he keeps the doors to his throne room locked.)

(One day, Heimdall will come to him and tell him that she is engaged. Many moons later, he will come again to say that she is married. And with a quiet snap, soft enough that he hardly notices at all, the heart of the god who was once Loki will break.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was good :/  
> I found this in my documents folder and decided to clean it up and post it... let me know what you think!


End file.
